To Conquer The World
by etoilecourageuse
Summary: When looking back on her life, Emily Gilmore could not help but wonder what it would have been like.


When looking back on her life, Emily Gilmore could not help but wonder what it would have been like, had she chosen to never marry her Richard at the age of twenty-two.

Of course she loved him, more and more each day, even during the time of their separation (which had been a terrible mistake, one that she never quite liked to admit to others). Of course she would never regret that she had accepted Richard Gilmore's rather unromantic proposal by the bench at Yale (and the mere thought of her triumph over Pennilyn Lott still caused her to smile on occasion). But she had once intended to conquer the entire world, and there was no place for a husband in what she had believed to be an infallible plan.

She should have known that it would all go differently.

There was no doubt that Emily was more than satisfied with what she had accomplished over the years she'd spent with Richard; she might not have become a historian, but she'd become a well-known woman in town, always wealthy, appreciated in what they called high society, and a master at hosting dinner parties, surpassing everyone who would ever be fool enough to dare to compete against her. She was mother to a daughter and wife to a man whose love for her seemed endless (which was more than an accomplishment, compared to what could be seen in other households, even those of people she at times considered to be her closest friends). Some would call it luck, but she knew a better name: Success.

When she had held her newborn girl in her arms, she had silently sworn that together they would overcome anything, whatever awaited them. She had whispered to her, smiled at her, and closed her eyes to dream of a future as a real family.

How perfect her life could have been, if there hadn't been one thing she hadn't expected.

It was not easy for a woman like Emily Gilmore to admit that her relationship with her daughter could be considered complicated at best, but there was no denying that they were more similar than Lorelai would ever want to know. What a whirlwind she was, stirring up the lives of those whose paths she crossed, and how strong she was, all on her own.

It would sometimes break Emily's heart to see how little her daughter needed her, even as a teenager, but hadn't she always raised Lorelai to be independent, never to rely on anyone? Yet perhaps sometimes she had attempted to force her into a role she would refuse to play, into a life she would refuse to live; perhaps she had made mistakes, perhaps she would still make them, but what was done was done, and could not be revoked. The disappointment could still take her breath away, if she allowed for it to happen.

Had she believed Lorelai's pregnancy to be the punishment for her constant strive for perfection, her attempts to save what she thought important had failed, always. Had sometimes driven her close to madness. But it all ceased to matter soon; too soon. Her entire world had fallen apart when months later she found the letter on her table. It felt as though she would never see her little girl again who had grown up before she had had a chance to watch.

Yet she would always remember her vow. Always. Would always help her whenever she cried out for help, would always be there for her whenever she needed her. Lorelai was her daughter after all, her only child, and how would she ever be able to bear losing her if it already caused her heart to burn within her chest to see how much she distanced herself from her, how desperately she sometimes seemed to pull away?

Perhaps she were to play games, but Emily knew them all – hadn't she invented most of them? And so they would play by her rules.

Of course the people talked at first; of course they would look at her full of disdain as though she had fallen from grace. Of course they would whisper. But it all no longer mattered to her, not to Emily. Not as long as she could see her, her daughter, and also Rory, her grandchild, the sweet girl who seemed so much like her mother and yet so different. Even if they fought, even if she sometimes swallowed down her tears of rage or disappointment at her daughter's secrets, at her unspoken declaration that she was no longer a part of her life, of both their lives, Emily would savour every moment in their presence.

She knew that it wasn't true. Knew that she would always be part of Lorelai and Rory's lives, whether they wanted her or not. She knew that they loved her, each in their own way. The thought caused her to smile. One day, her daughter would learn how to trust her again, and one day, perhaps, they would become friends.

Until then, however, her best friend would be her husband, Richard, who understood her even without words, who only had to look at her to make her smile, who would sometimes make her feel like a girl again when he kissed her, so softly, so lovingly, as though it had been only yesterday that they met. (Of course she also needed time for herself, without him, but he had learned to respect this wish after the disaster his first brief attempt at retiring had turned out to be.) Richard, her daughter's father, who had turned her entire world upside down in the moment their gazes met for the first time.

When looking back on her life, Emily could not help but wonder what it would have been like never to marry, never to know Richard in the way she knew him now, never to know her daughter, and her granddaughter. Perhaps she would have travelled, to places he would never have considered travelling to; perhaps she would seen the world in a completely different light, discovering things that no one before her had discovered. Always she would find herself shaking her head over her foolishness; always she would find herself smiling at the thought that, no matter how flawed the dream of a perfect life had turned out to be, she had never been happier before.

Even if Emily Gilmore had not quite conquered the entire world after all, she had conquered her happiness, with the life she had made with her family, a world of her own creation. And that was all that mattered.


End file.
